


Just Out of Reach

by IAmANonnieMouse



Series: AELDWS 2017 Elimination Round [1]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Angst, Identity Issues, M/M, References to MCD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 23:10:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11610885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmANonnieMouse/pseuds/IAmANonnieMouse
Summary: Eames doesn't know what he is anymore.





	Just Out of Reach

**Author's Note:**

> AELDWS 2017 Week 1  
> Prompt: skin hunger  
> Genre: AU (magical or canon-based)  
> Word count: up to 500 words

Ariadne is the first to catch him. They’re under for a test run, checking the architecture, and it had just made sense to slide into this body, warm and familiar and soothing.

“Fuck you, Eames,” Ariadne grits out, eyes red. “How long have you been doing this?”

“I didn’t realize,” Eames lies.

Ariadne turns away, wipes her eyes. “You need to stop that,” she says. “It’s not right.”

Eames doesn’t know how to tell her that he’s never been able to stop it, and the only thing that helped him control it is out of his reach.

He nods instead and forces himself back into his skin, rough and uncomfortable, settling on his shoulders like a suit three years and ten pounds too small.

*

There is a weight in each of Eames’ pockets, comforting and foreign all at once.

When he’s checking for reality, he reaches for his left pocket, for the chip and its valleys and ridges. When he’s checking for himself, he reaches for the right, clutching the small die in his hand until the skin is marked with three dots, perfectly aligned.

*

Arthur once told Eames that he wore suits for comfort as much as aesthetics. Arthur treasured the weight of three layers of fabric, and the grounding feeling of protection that accompanied it.

Eames had told him he was mad.

But now, as he desperately scrapes his hand over the thin skin coating his arm and tells himself that he is Eames, he is Eames, he is _Eames,_ he dresses himself in a suit, vest and all, and imagines that it’s something warmer, heavier surrounding him.

It almost works.

*

“I need someone to test my new compound,” Yusuf calls.

“No way in hell,” Ariadne answers.

Dom mutters something and races out the door.

Yusuf turns to Eames expectantly.

*

Eames isn’t Eames anymore. He doesn’t know _what_ he is anymore. He’s in a dream, he knows that for sure, but he can’t know anything else. His skin is stretching, pulling, fraying.

He doesn’t know what he is anymore.

“Shhh,” Arthur whispers, quieting the noises Eames didn’t realize he was making. “Shh, Eames. I’m here.”

And Arthur touches him, runs his calloused fingertips and smooth palms over every inch of Eames, reminding Eames what his body looks like, what his skin feels like. He wraps his arms around Eames tightly, the warmth of his body burning into Eames’ back.

“I’m here,” he whispers, pressing his nose in Eames’ hair. “Stay with me, Eames. I’m right here. Stay with me.”

Eames stays. He stays and shudders and clutches Arthur close and finally, _finally_ feels himself settle into his skin, feels Arthur trace patterns across his stomach, his arms, his cheeks. Feels the hunger abate, barely.

“Stay with me,” Arthur breathes.

“Always,” Eames whispers, and he wakes up.

“Good?” Yusuf asks.

Eames slides his hand into his right pocket, feels the dots press into his skin.

“Good,” he manages. “It’s good.”

**Author's Note:**

> I am on [Tumblr.](http://iamanonniemouse.tumblr.com)


End file.
